


On a Bus to St. Cloud

by RubyTuesday5681



Category: Bandom, LeATHERMØUTH, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Complete, F/M, Hopeful Ending, M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, POV Third Person Limited, Pining, Polyamory, Rating: NC17, Touring, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-28
Updated: 2012-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-30 05:51:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyTuesday5681/pseuds/RubyTuesday5681
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where MCR never existed, Frank has Leathermouth and Skeleton Crew and Gerard has his art and Umbrella Academy, and they almost had each other. But their almost-relationship is over now. It’s ancient history, isn’t it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	On a Bus to St. Cloud

**Author's Note:**

> This is a polyamory fic, there is no pairing conflict or infidelity.  
> This fic is greatly inspired by the song ‘On a Bus to St. Cloud’ by Trisha Yearwood. You can listen to it on YouTube [here](http://youtu.be/prJyb7W605c).

_And you chase me like a shadow, and you haunt me like a ghost.  
And I hate you some, and I love you some, but I miss you most._

The touring is starting to get to Frank. It’s wearing on him. They’ve been on the road for almost ten weeks now, basically the longest he’s been away from home, away from everything… familiar, without a break in what seems like forever.

He loves the shows the most, but they can be a lot to go through. Touring with Leathermouth is like nothing else. It’s just so intense. There are some nights where Frank swears he can’t even remember exactly what happens onstage. He just lets himself go and it’s like he’s possessed, like it’s not even really him up there anymore. He’s just a shell- just a conduit for all the energy and emotions running through him and out into the crowd and then back into him again. It’s like he’s electricity. 

And so he’s exhausted. It’s exhausting doing that every night, or close to it, without any real rest. He wouldn’t trade it for the world; he loves his band and he loves performing, but… he’s just tired. 

He’s tired and he misses Jamia and he misses his dogs and it’s all starting to get to him. He knows it’s getting to him because sometimes he feels like his mind is… slipping. He hears things that no one else hears. He sees things that aren’t there. 

He can’t sleep right. Like, he’ll sleep for 40 minutes and then wake up raring to go, but there’s nothing to do because he’s _supposed_ to be sleeping. And then when it’s time to be somewhere or do something important, that’s when he wants to sleep. It’s this constant stream of hurry-up-wait, and he knows that five-hour energy shots, Red bull, and Starbucks aren’t meant to replace sleep, but that’s what it’s coming to. 

The van breaks down outside of Madison, Wisconsin on a Friday and there’s no way they can get it fixed before Monday, but they have a show in Minnesota on Saturday night that they just can’t miss, so they end up on a bus. A fucking Greyhound bus with nothing but the clothes on their backs because they couldn’t bring everything, and they can’t play a show without their instruments, so that’s what they bring. They don’t even have any merch for the fans. Luckily James has a friend in St. Cloud who can lend him a drum set. He’ll miss having his own kit, but it’s better than nothing. There’s no way they can bring his whole kit on the fucking Greyhound with them. 

It’s January, so it’s fucking freezing and Frank thinks he’s never seen so much snow on the ground. He’s bundled up in three hoodies, sitting at the very back of the bus, looking out the window and wondering what it must be like to live in the buttfuck middle of nowhere in the upper Midwest. 

He misses the suburbs. The Madison suburbs end after about fifteen minutes and then it’s just nothing; it all looks the same. Nothing like Jersey where the towns never really end. There are some small forests here and there, and farther south, there are certainly breaks between the larger towns, but things just seem to sort of all lead into each other all the way from the New York suburbs down to the Philly suburbs. It doesn’t really all look the same. It doesn’t really even _feel_ the same. Frank can tell the difference. He can tell north Jersey from south. It’s his home. Right now he feels like he left his soul there and it wants him back. 

What Frank can’t tell the difference in though, is the difference in the tiny little towns they keep passing. And in between them it’s just mile after endless mile of nothing. 

Nothing. It’s boring, and so Frank thinks that he should be able to sleep. But he can’t. He stares out the window and lets the miles jostle him into a thrumming numbness that’s almost comfortable. He’s almost content. But not really. 

It’s when they stop in Eau Claire that Frank knows he’s really losing it. He gets off the bus to use the bathroom, because there’s no way he’s pissing in that shit little poor excuse for a bathroom on the bus. He can live without the funky diseases, thanks. 

After he finishes emptying his bladder and thinks he’s never felt more relieved to take a piss in all his life, he stops in the store to buy a pack of gum since they can’t smoke on the bus, a bag of Doritos, and a new pocket-sized notebook. He writes all his thoughts down when he can’t sleep and it really helps, but he filled up his last notebook a couple of days ago and has been going nuts not having anything to write in since then. 

When he gets back outside, he lights a cigarette to smoke before getting on the bus again. As he makes the trek over to the platform where their bus is waiting, it starts to snow. Fuck. Fucking snow. It’s the heavy, wet kind of snow that will have him soaked to the bone if he stays out in it for more than a few minutes. He needs this cigarette, though. He tries to hover around under the platform roof, but he keeps getting shooed away to the ‘designated smoking area’, which is, of course, not under cover. He smokes fast. 

He knows for sure that he’s losing it when he finally finishes his cigarette. He puts it out and turns to walk back to the bus and that’s when he sees him. He sees Gerard. 

Well, he thinks he sees Gerard. 

It can’t be Gerard, though, because Gerard is in New York or somewhere, getting rich off his new comic. Or maybe he’s doing a book-signing tour? Fuck if Frank knows, but he knows there’s absolutely no reason for Gerard to be in fucking Eau Claire, Wisconsin, at the Greyhound bus station. 

Frank only sees the dude that cannot possibly be Gerard for a few seconds. He’s just bought a newspaper from one of the machines outside the station. Frank isn’t sure, but he thinks it’s a Chicago Tribune. The dude is wearing a long black trench coat and he has gnarly black hair, just like Gerard’s, and it’s dirty. The snow falling into it sparkles a bit and he shakes the newspaper to get the flakes off as he scans the headlines on the front page. He folds the paper up and moves to grab the door to the station and goes inside. The snow swirls around him as he moves and he shakes his head as he walks in and Frank thinks it looks exactly like how Gerard would shake his head after showering to get the water out of his hair, droplets falling all over everything. Like a dog would. And Frank would always make a face at him about it and Gerard would laugh. 

And then the dude that cannot possibly be Gerard is gone and Rob is hollering to Frank that the bus is leaving. 

The bus is leaving. Frank shakes himself and jogs over to get on, belatedly realizing that he stood under the falling snow for far too long and now his top hoodie is completely soaked. He can’t decide whether to pull it off and manage with fewer layers or just wear it while it dries. He knows wearing wet clothes is a great way to give himself pneumonia, though, so he ends up taking it off and just cuddling up under James’ arm for most of the rest of the trip. 

James looks at him funny as he rubs his hand up and down Frank’s arm to warm him up. “You okay, man? You’re super pale, like… you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Frank shrugs. “M’fine,” he mumbles. But he does feel like James said. He feels like he’s seen a ghost. 

*_*_*

This isn’t the first time it’s happened. 

The first time it happened was after a show in Brooklyn about six months after Gerard ended things between them. Well, officially ended them, he had been distant for a few weeks, actually… not that they were ever really ‘official.’

It was Leathermouth’s first show, and Frank was sure he saw Gerard hailing a cab outside the club after their set. He’d gone out into the alley for a smoke as soon as they’d finished clearing all their stuff off the stage and loaded it into the van. He’d just lit up and was watching all the people milling around out in front of the club when he saw Gerard leave. He acted like he was in a hurry. Frank was so sure it had been Gerard in a black hoodie and dirty jeans. He swore he could even see paint stains on them.

He asked Mikey about it later, but Mikey had assured him that it couldn’t have been Gerard. He reminded Frank that Gerard doesn’t really like hardcore music and wouldn’t likely subject himself to actually going to a show. And of course Frank knew that and so he had to concede that Mikey was right. It was just… the guy’s hands- when he gripped the door handle on the cab and pulled it open, they… looked just like Gerard’s hands. 

The next time it happened was a little over a year ago on Leathermouth’s first cross-country tour. They were in L.A. of all places in December and Frank was having all kinds of cognitive dissonance about all the Christmas decorations everywhere next to palm trees and under the hot sun. He wanted to be cold. It’s supposed to be cold at Christmas time. It was the first time in his life that he could ever really remember missing the snow.

But it was actually kind of a cold day for L.A. when he thought he saw Gerard. They were stuck in traffic on the 101 during morning rush hour. They had a long drive that day to get up to their show in Fresno. It was an early show and they were the first band and had an early sound check, so they’d left earlier than they normally would have- right in the middle of morning traffic. 

It was stop-and-go and Ed was driving, already getting frustrated, and Frank felt sick. He doesn’t tend to get a ton of motion sickness, but the stop-and-go motion mixed with too much coffee, not enough sleep, and no food, was enough to make him go for a barf bag just in case. He was leaning up against the open window, where blessedly cool air was washing over his face when he saw Gerard. 

He was driving a silver BMW, and all Frank could see was his profile, but it looked so much like Gerard that for a moment Frank felt compelled to try to climb out the window and somehow get his attention. He’s not sure exactly, but he must have said something because the guys all asked him what he saw, but by then the traffic in that lane had moved up and the car was out of sight. 

He asked Mikey about that time later, too. Mikey had said it was certainly possible that it had been Gerard because he’d been in L.A. that week talking to screenwriters about a possible movie adaptation for Umbrella Academy. 

Frank’s seen Gerard a couple of times since then, but never got up the nerve to ask him what kind of car he’d rented on that trip to L.A.

Frank still thinks it’s weird, when he thinks about Gerard. When they see each other it’s… uncomfortable. And he wonders how it can be that at one time he had felt so comfortable with Gerard that he’d told him about how he ran away from home when he was thirteen after his Dad left them and how he’d tried to live on the streets in Manhattan for two weeks before finally giving up and calling his Mom. The only other person he’s ever told about that is Jamia.

Frank thinks it’s weird because he could tell Gerard things like that while they were lying in bed together after sex, the sweat cooling on their bodies between them, and feel more comfortable and relaxed than he’d ever felt in his entire life. Those whispered moments in the dark are seared into his memory like burn scars that will never go away. But now he can’t ask Gerard about a trip he took, because… Because he doesn’t want Gerard to think he’s still hung up on him. He doesn’t want Gerard to _know_. Gerard can’t be allowed to know that while he was apparently just messing around and having a good time, Frank was falling in love. No one can know that. It’s embarrassing. 

But it’s ancient history. And so Frank thinks that the feelings should have gone away by now, should be dead and buried, but they’re not. They’re what Frank thinks about onstage that night in St. Cloud. He screams at the crowd until he feels like his throat is on fire because he is so fucking pissed off because how can he still care? How can he still give a shit about Gerard after he was such an asshole and broke Frank’s heart, even though he clearly didn’t mean to? Frank rages at himself for being so vulnerable… so trusting… for allowing himself to get hurt. He’s been through all these feelings before- he was a mess for months after Gerard ended it- but after thinking he saw Gerard at the bus station, they all came flooding back. Frank feels like it’s been too long for it to still hurt so much, but apparently it hasn’t been quite long enough. It’s like a scab that is almost healed being torn off and then the wound opens up and starts gushing blood all over again.

And it hurts because when he thought he saw Gerard in the snow, he should have felt angry at him. But he didn’t. All he felt was this bone-deep longing. He misses Gerard so damn much, still. How can that be? He misses Gerard as much as he misses Jamia, only it’s worse because he can call Jamia whenever he wants and knows she’ll be there when he gets back. Happy to have him back in her arms. 

But Gerard… he can’t call Gerard. Not after… 

One of the things Gerard had said when he’d ended it was that Frank was smothering him. He was too attentive, too clingy, that he called and texted too much. So Frank can’t call Gerard. And he doesn’t know when he’ll see him again. Probably not until he happens to be around sometime when he’s hanging out with Mikey. 

And even though he knows that Gerard doesn’t feel the same, and probably never did, Frank still wants to see him, still misses him. And he shouldn’t, and that makes Frank angrier than he can remember being in a very long time. 

He throws himself out into the crowd three times during the set in St. Cloud. The third time he takes an elbow to the face and ends up with blood gushing from his nose. He doesn’t try to stop the bleeding, just smears it all over his face while he screams out the next song. By their last song, he has the microphone cord wrapped up so tight around his arm that it’s cutting off his circulation. Near the end of the song he tugs on it and fights with it angrily until he gets it all untangled. When it’s loose, he starts swinging it around in wide arcs. Once he gets going, he can’t control it and it ends up hitting him in the face just above his eye. The momentum is enough that the force of the microphone breaks his skin open into a huge gaping gash. 

Frank gets seven stitches and a gnarly scar and the physical pain is almost enough to make his heart feel better. But not really.

*_*_*

A few shows after the St. Cloud incident, they finally have their van back and have four days off before they have to finish up the last two weeks of the tour. They’ve debated just not going home but Frank’s at the point where he’s ready to drain the last couple hundred bucks he has on his debit card so that he can fly home from St. Louis to be with Jamia while the rest of the guys spend a couple days resting up in Memphis or someplace. He’s fine with just meeting up with them again for their next show in Baton Rouge. 

In the end, though, they all decide that they want to go home. Two weeks left of the tour is a long time and four days feels like enough to go home for. They get on the road immediately after their show in St. Louis and drive straight through until they get to Belleville. The van pulls in to dump Frank and his bag at his place at nine o’clock at night. They aren’t even going to bother with unloading the instruments or gear since they’ll just be packing it all up again in a couple of days anyway.

Jamia’s out the door of the house before the van’s even fully pulled into the driveway. Frank doesn’t take two steps before his arms are full of her and he suddenly feels this tightness in his chest that he didn’t even realize was there start to slowly unfurl and he feels lighter and like… he can breathe again. He buries his face in her neck and breathes in her scent and lets himself get lost in one of those blissful moments where they go to another place and all the dirty, ugly shit in the world can’t get to them. 

It lasts for just a few seconds before Frank starts shivering. He’s down to his last clean hoodie and he refuses to wear dirty clothes, so he’s just been cuddling up under a blanket all day in the van with its poor excuse for heat. Jamia squeezes him tightly as they walk inside, her hands rubbing up and down his arms. As soon as they walk inside, he can smell that she’s made him her veggie lasagna, his favorite thing that she cooks. 

Jamia sits him down at the table and sets about getting a plate for him while he greets all the dogs, petting them and letting them lick his face and apologizing for being gone for so long. The piece of lasagna that she gives him is ridiculously huge and he’s only able to eat about half of it. Sometimes she forgets how crappily he eats on the road, and how his appetite tends to diminish. She doesn’t complain when he doesn’t finish, though. Just pushes him upstairs and into the bathroom for a hot shower before she goes back down to clean up the kitchen. 

Frank is amazed that he manages to stay awake long enough to actually get clean. He doesn’t collapse in the shower, although he thinks he comes close to it a couple of times. He does collapse in his bed, though, where the dogs immediately swarm around him, cuddling up to him and warming his body with their heat. He’s not sure how long it is, but after a little while, he’s aware of Jamia entering the room and changing into her pajamas. She turns off the lights and shoos the dogs away so that she can crawl in bed and snuggle up to Frank, folding her soft curves around him. Frank nestles his body into hers and smiles, half asleep, but finally warm and clean and well-fed and _home_. And he’s content. 

*_*_* 

Jamia’s alarm goes off at 6:30, while it’s still dark. It’s her day to open the Skeleton offices, so she has to go in early. Frank feels her pull away from him in order to hit the snooze button and he instinctively tightens his arms around her. She manages to silence the alarm and burrow back down into his embrace and he thinks maybe if he just holds onto her tightly enough, she’ll decide not to go to work today and just stay in bed with him instead. They repeat the snooze cycle three times before she finally detaches Frank’s arms and legs from her body and slides out of bed. Frank only sulks for about fifteen seconds before giving in and letting the sound of the shower lull him back into sleep. The next thing he’s aware of is Jamia’s lips kissing the wound on his forehead and her hands smoothing over his hair as she says goodbye. She says she’ll try to get off work and come home early if she can. 

Frank opens his eyes enough to see the grey light of a cloudy winter morning starting to enter the room just as Jamia whispers, “I love you,” into his ear. And then she’s gone. 

*_*_*

Frank’s phone ringing wakes him up at 8:30. He fumbles around in the sheets attempting to locate the source of the irritating noise and kicks several dogs as he flails about, trying to remember where he is. There’s always that instant of panic upon first waking when you aren’t exactly sure where you are. Realizing he’s home fills him with a sense of relief that’s hard to describe. 

By the time he locates his phone on the nightstand, it’s stopped ringing. He sees that it was Mikey who called and figures he can call back later. After less than a minute, as he’s apologizing to the dogs for kicking them, Mikey calls again. 

Frank answers, mumbling something about it being way too early and Mikey replies with, “Get your lazy ass out of bed, fucker, and come have breakfast with me at Pongo’s.”

Pongo’s is a diner that he and Mikey have frequented for years. It’s open 24 hours and has amazing coffee and they have a standing tradition of having breakfast there whenever Frank gets back from a tour. 

Frank just wants to go back to sleep. “Tour isn’t over yet. I’m not really here, this is a mirage. No breakfast for me.”

Mikey’s not deterred. “You’re back in Jersey after being gone for almost three months. This is no mirage. When’s the last time you had Jersey diner coffee? Three months is too fucking long to go without that shit. If you haven’t been feeling like yourself, that’s probably why.”

Frank hasn’t been feeling like himself. He’s not entirely sure what that feels like anymore. “Have you been talking to James?” He’s suspicious because James’ words to him in the emergency room while he was getting stitched up had definitely been something along the lines of how Frank has _not been himself lately_.

“It’s certainly possible, but right now I’m just really fucking hungry. Get your ass down here before I eat all the veggie sausage.”

Veggie sausage actually sounds really good to Frank right now. It’s hard to find vegetarian options on the road and that’s something that Pongo’s specializes in. “Fine, whatever, asshole. You better have my coffee ready for me the way I like it.”

Frank ends the call and drags himself out of bed. He finds clean clothes in the closet and pulls on jeans, a t-shirt and a hoodie. It’s weird to wear these clothes after so long. He tends to only bring three or four outfits on the road with him because it’s just easier that way. These clothes haven’t been worn in almost three months and they feel foreign to him. They’re stiff and smell like mothballs. On a whim he goes to dig around in the hamper in the bathroom and finds a t-shirt of Jamia’s near the top. When he sniffs it he can tell that it’s only been worn once, so he pulls off the shirt he was wearing and puts on Jamia’s instead. It’s loose on him, stretched out from her boobs, but he doesn’t care. It feels soft and familiar and no one’s going to see it under his hoodie anyway. 

It also feels weird to be driving his own car again. So many things feel strange and foreign after being gone for so long. Belleville looks the same, though, and he’s glad for that. He finds a parking space easily right outside Pongo’s and has a smile on his face by the time he walks in and finds Mikey sitting at the end of the counter with a cup of coffee all ready for him. It’s sickeningly sweet, and nearly white from all the fake creamer in it, just the way Frank likes it. 

Frank takes a sip as he slides up onto the stool next to Mikey.

Mikey raises an eyebrow at him. “See? You feel better already, right?”

Frank laughs and leans into Mikey. “Actually, I do. Thanks for making me get up, man.”

Mikey shrugs, throwing his arm around Frank in a half-hug. “It’s nothing, really. I just wanted to see you. I miss you when you’re gone so long, dude.”

Frank ducks his head a bit. “Yeah, I know. I miss talking to you. How are things going at Skeleton? Jamia’s told me a little bit, but…” He sits up, waving his hand, indicating that Mikey should tell him. 

Jamia doesn’t talk about work so much with Frank while he’s on the road, unless he asks. And Mikey is not so much into the talking on the phone thing as he is into sending three and four word text message status updates, so Frank always feels really out of the loop when he gets back from touring. 

Mikey starts telling Frank about some of the new bands they’ve signed and the new designs for clothing merch that they’re working on. Frank listens attentively, he really does care about all this, but it feels weird. It’s been over a year since he surrendered control of Skeleton Crew to Jamia and Mikey so that he could focus on Leathermouth. He’s never regretted that decision; writing music and performing is definitely the thing he loves the most and is the most passionate about. It’s just strange listening to Mikey talk about it and having to be filled in on all the details, asking Mikey to start at the beginning when he talks about these bands, because Frank just _doesn’t know_. It’s not his thing anymore. He still helps out at Skeleton a lot when he’s not touring or recording, but it’s not his baby anymore. It’s Mikey’s now, and he’s glad of that, but he still feels… odd… nostalgic maybe. He isn’t sure.

They talk and drink coffee and it feels like a plate full of heaven’s been put down in front of him when Frank’s waffles and veggie sausage arrive. He even has a glass of orange juice and feels proud of himself for having something ‘healthy’. He finds that he’s starting to smile more as he eats the delicious food and laughs with Mikey as he catches him up on the lives of their friends. 

Frank is just starting in on his second waffle when the bell over the diner door rings and Gerard walks in. This time Frank can be sure that it’s Gerard because Mikey greets him with a smile and a hug before moving down one seat to make room for him. Frank quickly finishes chewing his bite and almost chokes as he swallows it in order to say hi to Gerard and smile up at him as he passes by, ruffling Frank’s hair before he sits down at the counter between him and Mikey.

Frank is more than a little bit surprised to see Gerard here and looks at Mikey for some clue as to what it’s all about, only to find him suddenly texting away furiously on his phone, apparently very involved and decidedly _not_ making eye contact with Frank.

Gerard orders a coffee before he turns toward Frank. “So, Frankie, I hear you’re only home for a couple days?”

“Yeah, um…” Frank tries to remember. “We have a couple shows in Louisiana, and then a few in Texas and Oklahoma, before we finally finish up in Fayetteville, Arkansas. Then we come home for a while.”

Gerard raises an eyebrow. “The last show of your tour is in Fayetteville, Arkansas?”

Frank smiles. Gerard’s not the first one to question this. “Yeah, it’s actually a really awesome area. It’s a college town and there’s a pretty big punk scene. The two other shows we’ve played there have been absolutely off-the-hook, so we’re really looking forward to it. I know it’s not what you would think, but I think it’s going to be a great way to close out the tour.”

Gerard nods and smiles, looking interested. “Well, that’s pretty awesome, then. I hope you guys have a good turnout.”

“Oh we will.” Frank nods immediately. “The venue we’re playing, it’s… well, it’s a really dumb name, but it’s called George’s Majestic Lounge, but it’s really not a lounge at all. It’s this amazing old live music club, with tons of area history and the shows almost always sell out on weekends. Our show is on a Friday night and I’ll be shocked if the place isn’t packed with college kids wanting to let loose.”

Gerard’s face brightens. “Wow. That sounds like the perfect place for you guys. So when is that? Like, a week, two weeks and then you’re done for a while?”

“Yeah, that last show is in just over two weeks.” Frank begins nervously tucking strands of hair behind his ear. He can’t figure out why Gerard is suddenly so interested in his touring plans after being almost totally absent from his life for a year and a half.

Gerard takes a sip of his coffee and rubs at his nose before he speaks again, as if he’s considering his words. “This has been a really long tour for you guys.”

Frank shrugs, chewing a bite of waffle, thinking before he replies. “It is what it is. It’s part of… well, being in a band. We’ve been writing on the road, though. Can’t wait to get back into the studio again.”

Gerard studies Frank for a moment, he cocks his head to the side. “Is it worth it, though?”

Frank suddenly gets a prickly feeling crawling up his spine. Like, he doesn’t understand the question, but he feels defensive anyway. “Is what worth it?”

Gerard picks up his hand like he wants to touch Frank’s face and Frank instinctively flinches away. Gerard drops his hand immediately. “The touring. I mean… for so long. Being gone for so long, you just…” He furrows his brow. “I’ve seen you look better, Frank.”

Frank huffs and turns back toward the counter. “Of course it’s worth it, I love it. This is what I do, Gerard. I’m a touring musician. It’s who I am.” He takes several gulps of his coffee and returns to eating his second waffle. His stomach is starting to protest the amount of food, but Frank doesn’t feel like stopping. He’s only home for a few days and he’s fine and he’s perfectly capable of eating two waffles, his stupid, sensitive digestive system be damned.

Gerard looks like he wants to say more, to try to explain himself or something, but at that moment, Mikey gets up and comes to stand between them. “I need to get to the office, so I’m about to head out.” He starts pulling on his coat as Gerard asks him about some family thing, something about their parents. 

Frank gets up and goes to the bathroom to splash some water on his face and tries to get a grip. He examines himself in the mirror. He notices what Gerard probably saw. The dark circles under his eyes. He palms at his cheeks, feeling how thin they’ve become, his cheekbones made more prominent. Okay, so what? Whatever. He always loses weight on the road. And the dark circles are normal, he just needs a nap. And some water, he’s maybe a bit dehydrated, that’s all.

When he comes back out to the counter, Mikey is still there talking to Gerard. Frank sits back down and orders a glass of water, downing the whole thing immediately. He obviously hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. Yeah, definitely dehydrated. 

Frank finishes up his last piece of veggie sausage and studies Gerard as he talks to Mikey. He’s wearing a leather jacket that cannot possibly be warm enough for how cold it is today. It looks old and beat up, but Frank is pretty sure it was expensive. Gerard’s hair is longer than it was the last time Frank saw him, and it’s black again. He had it cut short and dyed blonde when Frank saw him at one of his book signings just a few weeks before he left for this tour. 

Going to that signing had been a mistake. Ray was going and had talked Frank and Jamia into going, too, but it turned out to be really awkward and uncomfortable and Frank felt silly. Like he’d gone from Gerard’s almost-sort-of-boyfriend to his adoring fan. Not that Frank isn’t a fan of Gerard’s work, he is, but… it was just one more instance of him thinking he was over Gerard only to realize quite quickly upon seeing him that he definitely wasn’t. He remembers being on the verge of tears in the car on the way home and being so thankful that Jamia was with him. She’d held his hand while she drove and told him that the way he feels things so deeply is just part of what’s so great about him and what makes him such a great artist and musician. Frank’s not sure he buys that, but he remembers feeling less embarrassed about the whole thing. Jamia’s never judged the way he loves so deeply and can’t seem to stop loving someone or something once he starts. He thinks that should be weird, but it just makes him love her more. 

Mikey and Gerard finally finish talking. Mikey zips up his coat and stops to hug Frank before he leaves. “I’ll try to kick Jamia out early this afternoon, so you guys can spend some time together, kay?”

Frank pats Mikey’s back and says, “Thanks,” turning to watch him walk out into the frigid morning. He waits until Mikey’s pulled out of the parking lot before shifting around to look at Gerard again. 

Gerard is studying him intently. He’s not trying to hide it at all. Not that Gerard’s ever really been self conscious about that kind of thing. His head is cocked to the side just the slightest bit as he stares and Frank stares back. He can’t help but think that Gerard looks really good. He looks really… healthy… rested. Much more so than when they saw each other last, certainly much more than when they broke up. Gerard had been a mess then. He hadn’t gone back to drinking or anything like that, but he was having a lot of trouble sleeping and was dealing with all this stress over changing publishers and trying to get out of a bad contract… Frank would have liked to have been there for him. He and Jamia had tried to be around for Gerard, to be supportive, but Gerard just shut them out so hard and then it was just too difficult for Frank to be around him while he still had so many… feelings. 

Gerard opens his mouth as if to say something, but doesn’t. He licks his lips and takes a shallow breath before turning to the counter and taking a drink of his coffee. Finally, he turns back to Frank and says, “So.”

Frank snorts. He can’t do this… whatever this is, it’s too much. He says, “So I’m really tired and need to get back to my bed.” He drags out the vowels on the word ‘really’ for emphasis. Gerard had basically said that Frank looks like shit, well- he can do something about that and that something is sleep. 

Frank stands up and pulls on his coat before fishing his wallet out of his pocket to pay for his food. Gerard grabs at his wrist. “Wait.”

Frank looks and sees Gerard looking down at Frank’s hand. He’s biting his lip as he caresses his thumb up and down the back of it, over the ‘Jamia’ tattoo. Frank snatches his hand away quickly and finishes paying. “What, Gerard?” He doesn’t look at Gerard for an answer, just stares at the counter top where syrup has spilled off his plate and is now pooling in a sticky mess on the veneer. 

“Just-” Gerard stops and sighs in frustration and then starts again. “I just want to talk to you- I’ve hardly… We’ve hardly seen each other in months, and… well, I miss you.”

Frank doesn’t know what this is, but it feels like too little too late. “What are we going to talk about, Gee?”

Gerard throws his hands up and whines, “I don’t know, how we’ve been… what we’ve been up to…” He gestures vaguely around and quickly pulls a few bills out of his wallet when he realizes that Frank is still intent on leaving. He leaves the money on the counter and follows Frank out the door. 

When they get outside, Frank immediately pulls out his cigarettes and lights one up. After a few drags, he turns around to peer at Gerard, who’s looking less secure and more dejected than Frank has ever seen him. Frank scratches at his eyebrow with his pinky. “What I’ve been up to is touring. And to be honest, I’m not sure that I really care what you’ve been up to.” It’s a lie, but Frank has to say it.

Gerard looks stung by the words, but he doesn’t give up. “Don’t… Frank, don’t be like that. Don’t you… Don’t you miss me at all?”

Frank is starting to feel like this is upside-down and backward day. Like maybe he got lost somewhere in the time-space continuum and has actually returned to a Belleville that’s in an alternate universe. He huffs out an incredulous laugh. “Of course I do.” He shrugs his shoulders hard, inadvertently flicking ash in Gerard’s face. He flinches and Frank gives in as he says in an almost whine. “I miss you like fucking crazy, okay? I can’t… I _still_ can’t get you out of my fucking head. What… what do you want, Gerard?”

Frank pins Gerard with a glare, awaiting his answer, and sees that Gerard’s expression is completely unguarded, transparent. All Frank can see on his face is want and need and he’s taken aback by it so that he’s not prepared at all when Gerard grabs at his wrist and pushes close, his face hovering inches away from Frank’s as he whispers, “I just want you.” And then Gerard kisses him.

Frank kisses him back because what else is he supposed to do? He’s missed this taste so much, the texture of Gerard’s tongue and teeth. It feels exactly the same. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, and flails for a moment, dropping his cigarette before his fingers land on Gerard’s hips under his jacket. He pushes his hands up under Gerard’s t-shirt and finds the soft swell of his hips, the skin so warm and familiar. Then Gerard is gripping Frank’s hips and pulling him close, their groins colliding as Frank ends up backed into the brick wall of the diner. He gasps into Gerard’s mouth and pulls back just enough to moan. Opening his eyes, he sees Gerard’s lids still closed as he catches his breath. Frank brings his fingers up to trace over Gerard’s eyebrows and his eyes flick open. 

“Hey,” Frank whispers. “What is this?”

Gerard leans in and plants one more, soft kiss on Frank’s mouth before answering. “I just need you right now. Please… I just… Come home with me.” He nuzzles his nose against Frank’s. “I’ve just missed you so much.”

Frank can’t say no. He can’t. He thinks of all the reasons not to go with Gerard. He thinks about Gerard walking out of his life with no good explanation and he thinks about how he let Gerard see sides of himself that only one other person has ever seen and how raw and hurt he felt when that seemed to not mean anything to him. He thinks about Jamia and what she would say about it, what she would think… How hurt she had been on his behalf when Gerard walked out of their lives and how hard it’s been on her to watch him trying to get over Gerard all these months. He thinks about all of this, but… He can’t say no. He finds himself nodding and breathing out, “okay,” and going along with it as Gerard pulls him over to his car and pushes him into the passenger seat. 

They don’t talk on the short drive to Gerard’s house, but Gerard grabs Frank’s hand as soon as he sits down, smoothing his fingers over the top of it as he steers with his other hand. Frank fidgets nervously in his seat. It’s been so long, but when they kissed it felt… it just felt right. Like coming back to a home he didn’t even know he had. He knows he’s crazy to do this to himself again, and drag Jamia into it. He knows it, but he doesn’t care. He wants this. He never stopped wanting it. And as much as it had hurt to be cast aside, he’s always hoped... He hasn’t admitted it to himself, but he’s always hoped that Gerard still felt… something. Just so he’d know he wasn’t crazy to think there was something there- something special between them. He thinks… he hopes Jamia will understand.

When they get to Gerard’s house, Frank follows him inside in silence. It looks different than it did when Frank was here last. There are new paintings on the walls, and the furniture has been rearranged, but it still smells the same. Gerard leads Frank into the kitchen where he starts brewing a pot of coffee. Once the drip starts and the aroma begins to fill the room, Gerard turns to Frank. “Hey,” he says and pulls at Frank’s hand again, and then his hips as he brings their bodies together. “Hey,” he says again, more softly this time, and kisses Frank. 

It’s sweet and tender and all of the things it used to be. Gerard’s hands are in Frank’s hair, massaging his scalp and wrapping around his neck and holding his head in tight so that Frank can’t pull back even if he wanted to. He doesn’t want to. He kisses back and runs his fingers up under Gerard’s shirt to palm at the warm skin of his back. It isn’t long before his hips start moving against Gerard’s and Gerard releases his hold on Frank’s skull to throw his head back and gasp out Frank’s name. 

Frank starts to pull Gerard’s shirt up at the same time Gerard goes for Frank’s and they laugh and it suddenly feels comfortable. Like it used to be when they could smile and laugh and have fun during sex. It’s insane but Frank feels as if no time has passed at all. Like maybe they were making out like this just yesterday. 

They each move back to pull their own shirts off and then it’s back to kissing. All teeth and tongues and it’s messy and perfect. In a few minutes, it’s more than Frank can handle. He backs off and takes Gerard’s hand, leading him into the bedroom. He loses his pants and shoes as soon as he walks through the door and stops at the bed to help Gerard do the same. Gerard’s jeans have paint stains on them and Frank flashes back to that night after the Leathermouth show in Brooklyn. It could have been Gerard, he thinks, if Gerard really had been missing him. He wants so much to believe it was Gerard, to believe that Gerard came to his show. 

Frank sits down on the bed and turns Gerard to face him as he pulls off his jeans and briefs. Gerard kicks off his shoes and Frank peels his socks down. He’s always loved Gerard’s feet. He stops to pet at them before turning his attention to his groin. He nuzzles at Gerard’s dick and breathes in the musky scent. He’s missed this so much. He closes his eyes and just feels it, rubbing his face all over Gerard’s most intimate place.

Gerard brings his hands up to Frank’s head, running his fingertips softly through his hair. He sighs. “I’ve missed this so much, Frankie, no one… no one else ever does this like you.” 

Frank appreciates the sentiment, but he doesn’t want to think about the other people who may have been doing this to Gerard. He puts it out of his mind and instead focuses on taking Gerard’s entire length into his mouth as deep as he can, until he’s practically choking on it. Gerard’s hips stutter as he tries to control himself and not thrust. The keening noises that escape his throat make Frank smile. He moans around Gerard’s cock and massages his ass, moving his mouth up and down the shaft until he’s afraid Gerard is too close, and then he stops. He pulls off and looks up at Gerard, pushing away the strands of hair that have fallen down into his eyes.

Gerard’s face is flushed as he’s panting, staring down at Frank with so much desperate want it almost hurts to see and that makes Frank’s mind up for him. “Fuck me, Gee.” It comes out needier than he’d like, but there’s no hiding it with Gerard, there never was. Frank’s never been able to hide what Gerard does to him. 

Gerard nods- he doesn’t need to be told twice. Frank moves back up the bed and pulls his underwear and socks off as Gerard fumbles in the nightstand for a condom and lube. Frank watches Gerard tear the condom package off the strip and thinks about how close he’d been to asking to Gerard to fuck him raw back near the end of the time when they were together. He’d even talked to Jamia about it a couple times and she’d been okay with it. But then Gerard got all distant and pushed them both away and that was the end of that. 

Gerard kneels on the bed in front of Frank and rubs his hands up and down Frank’s arms and chest before gently flipping him over onto his belly. Frank grabs the nearest pillow and clutches it, getting his head comfortable and closing his eyes. He feels Gerard’s fingers land on his ass, gently pulling the cheeks apart and urging Frank to lift his hips up a bit and then Gerard prepares him slowly, one finger at a time. He moves one digit around inside him until he finds Frank’s prostate and Frank gasps. In another second, Gerard has two fingers in him, scissoring around and opening him up and that’s enough. That’s enough for Frank. 

“Do it now, Gee, fuck me,” he manages to get out and he’s relieved as he hears Gerard ripping open the foil package. He opens his eyes and turns back to watch Gerard roll the condom on and slick up before positioning himself at Frank’s entrance. When he pushes in, it’s so good. It’s better than Frank remembered. 

It’s tight and too much and perfect all at once, and Gerard is rubbing Frank’s back gently and saying, “shh,” and, “relax,” and so Frank does. The muscles finally give way and let Gerard slide all the way home, balls deep inside Frank. Somehow Frank wants to cry at the sensation because he’s missed it so much. Not because he’s so much into getting fucked, although he does enjoy it, but because it’s _Gerard_. It means something to him. Frank’s never really been good at separating sex from feelings and he knows it probably doesn’t mean the same thing to Gerard, but he can’t care right now, it’s just too good after so long.

Gerard starts thrusting after a moment, hitting Frank’s prostate on each upstroke and Frank immediately moves to jerk himself off. Gerard beats him to it, though, saying, “No, let me,” as he starts slowly stroking Frank’s dick in time with his thrusts. 

Gerard pulls at Frank’s hips and cants his up so that he can get a better angle and then leans down to completely cover Frank’s body with his own. His mouth is at Frank’s ear now, whispering all manner of sweet, loving words to him. Frank catches, ‘beautiful’, and, ‘gorgeous,’ and, ‘perfect,’ and, ‘missed this,’ and ‘no one else,’ and it’s all he can do to keep from crying because it’s all too much. 

It isn’t long before Gerard’s thrusts start to speed up and he strokes Frank impossibly fast. He’s still hitting Frank’s prostate on each stroke and it sends little zings up his spine that make him feel like he’s going to spontaneously combust. Gerard’s movements start to stutter just as Frank’s muscles seize up, and he comes just seconds before Gerard does. Gerard strokes Frank through it even as he’s coming himself and it’s the most powerful orgasm Frank’s had in months. It leaves him feeling completely wrung out and boneless. 

He whimpers a little as Gerard pulls out slowly, quickly getting rid of the condom before he’s back over Frank, pulling him over onto his back. Gerard collapses limp on top of him, his head on Frank’s chest, and they lie there together in silence, catching their breath as their heartbeats slow down and after a little while they both fall asleep. 

*_*_*

Frank wakes up to Gerard licking his navel and he giggles as he sits up to peer at the clock and see what time it is. He ‘hmmms’ when he sees it’s already after noon and turns Gerard’s head up to face him. “I should get going,” he says softly as Gerard moves up to kiss him. When they break apart, Frank says, “I need to get home to spend some time with Jamia this afternoon, but I’m still home for a couple more days. We can see each other again. Maybe tomorrow?”

Gerard’s face darkens almost imperceptibly at the mention of Jamia’s name. It’s gone so fast Frank thinks he might have imagined it. Gerard forces out a tiny smile and caresses the backs of his fingers against Frank’s cheek. “I actually have meetings in New York the next three days, so today was it. But after you get back…. Two weeks, right?”

Frank smiles and says breathlessly, “Yeah, two weeks.” They kiss again for a few minutes before Frank pulls away and says, “I should go.”

Gerard says, “Wait,” and holds onto Frank gently by the neck. He has the strangest expression. “Shower with me before you go?”

“Of course.” Frank feels Gerard’s fingers moving over his throat for a moment before he backs up to lead Frank into the bathroom. This is something they used to do a lot, shower together. Sometimes they would have sex, sometimes they wouldn’t. But it was their thing. 

*_*_*

After they get clean and dried and back in their clothes, they sit in Gerard’s kitchen for a little while, drinking coffee in companionable silence. Gerard keeps looking at Frank and smiling and Frank doesn’t know what it means. He likes it, but he’s terrified of getting his hopes up. 

Finally the coffee is finished and Frank feels sufficiently warmed to go out into the cold. He stands up and puts his mug in the sink and Gerard follows him to do the same. They venture back out into the cold together and are quiet for most of the drive back to the diner to get Frank’s car. 

They kiss again for several minutes after Gerard parks, and the windows start to steam up. Frank finally pulls back, gasping. It’s getting late and he needs to get home. Once he’s caught his breath, he reaches for the door handle, but Gerard stops him with a hand on his arm. Frank looks and sees that Gerard is chewing on his lip and looking conflicted.

Gerard opens and closes his mouth several times before he finally speaks. “Just so we’re clear,” he starts. “Jamia’s forever, right?”

Frank nods. “Yes, she’s forever.”

Gerard swallows and nods back. 

Frank says, “You have to be okay with that.”

“I know.” Gerard says it quickly, but it’s so soft Frank might have missed it if he hadn’t been looking at Gerard when he said it. 

Frank turns and puts both his hands on Gerard’s cheeks and wonders for the first time if only he could just make Gerard believe… make him understand… then maybe… “You know you could be forever, too. Right?”

Gerard shakes his head minutely. “I don’t… I can’t…” He looks down, closing his eyes. 

He looks so anguished Frank doesn’t know what to do and he suddenly realizes that maybe he’s been missing the problem all along. Suddenly it seems so clear… why Gerard would push him away. Why hadn’t he seen it before? 

He leans up and kisses Gerard hard before bringing his lips around to his ear and saying firmly, “I love you, Gerard. I never told you that before, but I do. I always did, never stopped. But it’s up to you.” 

Gerard doesn’t say anything else as Frank finally leaves, and Frank wonders if that was really the end. His tears freeze on his cheeks as he walks to his car.

*_*_*

Frank isn’t sure how long he sits on the couch after he gets home, the dogs curled up around him as he stares at the TV that isn’t on. Eventually, he falls asleep and when he wakes up, it’s getting dark out. It’s dark in the living room, but the lights are on in the kitchen and Frank can smell leftovers of lasagna from last night being reheated. The clock on the DVD player tells him it’s almost five and he stretches and groans as he wakes up.

Jamia walks in smiling at him, carrying a mug of something hot and steaming. “Hot chocolate for you,” she says, putting the mug in his hands. She cuddles up to him and they sit in the dark in silence for a little while as Frank drinks his hot chocolate. 

Jamia runs her fingernails over his scalp the way she knows always relaxes him. Once he’s finished, he sets his mug down on the end table and says, “I saw Gerard today.”

Her fingers never stop their gentle motion. She knows. “Mmm hmm, that’s what Mikey said. What happened? Did you guys talk?”

Frank snorts. “Not really, no. I mean… there was talking, but…”

“Nothing was resolved,” she finishes for him.

He nods and drops his head onto her shoulder. “I went home with him, and… he fucked me. I mean… I asked him to.”

Jamia’s left arm tightens around his shoulder and she doesn’t say anything at first. After a minute she picks up his right hand in hers and twines their fingers together. “And how do you feel? I mean… how was it? Was it the same? Was it good?”

Frank turns his head to nuzzle into her neck as he answers. “Yes, it was good, it was… just like before. It was perfect… I still love him.”

“I know,” she whispers and clears her throat. “But I don’t think Gerard knows what he wants. He’s going to hurt you again.” Her voice is tight. “He’s going to hurt us again.”

“He might,” Frank confirms as he brings a hand up to caress along her collarbone. “Or this might have been it. I don’t know, I think… I guess maybe he just never thought it could work.” 

Jamia shakes her head. “It _was_ working, though. I mean… he was really starting to feel like my friend and like… part of us, you know?”

“I know. But I don’t think _he_ knew that.” Frank shakes himself and sits up. “But it’s not for us to try and convince him, he has to… he has to figure himself out.”

Jamia turns to Frank, frustration etched all over her features. She shakes her head and huffs out a breath. “You say that so casually, like it’s so easy, but I know you. I _know_ it’s… it’s tearing you up inside.”

Frank shrugs. “I can’t turn it off.” Holding both her hands in his, he intertwines their fingers. He looks down at them as he says, “I won’t push him away if he wants me. I mean, if he _really_ wants me.” He looks back up to see her reaction, sees her features gradually soften in almost slow motion.

“I know.” She sighs. “I know and I still stand by what I said before. I won’t ask you to push him away. I trust you. And I _do_ like Gerard, I just… I just want you to be happy… to have what you need.”

Frank is reminded of all the reasons why he never once doubted Jamia, never doubted the wisdom of tattooing her name in such a visible place. He places his hands on each of her cheeks and leans up to bring their faces close. “You make me happy,” he whispers. “You’re what I need,” he says more strongly.

She looks like she wants to cry and Frank wonders just how badly she’s needed to hear those words. She whispers, “Yeah?” as if she doesn’t know. Frank knows she knows, but sometimes she’s vulnerable and he forgets. He forgets because she’s always the strong one all the time. 

“Yes,” he assures her, and then captures her mouth in a long, deep kiss. He gets lost in it. 

*_*_*

Frank hates Mardi Gras. He hates it with a burning passion that is difficult to explain. They’re playing a show in New Orleans that just happens to be on the Monday before Fat Tuesday. Frank is glad they’ll be gone for the worst of things, but the party’s already in full swing and has been since they got here yesterday. The traffic is horrible and every place they go is crowded and noisy and he vows to never play another show in New Orleans during Mardi Gras again.

Their show is in a church basement. Frank isn’t exactly sure how they ended up at this venue, but he isn’t complaining. It’s a Unitarian Universalist church that apparently hosts concerts regularly for the youth group. Leathermouth is on the bill with two local punk bands that go on before them. Apparently the youth leaders have been promoting this show for weeks. Frank wants to laugh when he thinks about how vastly his worldview probably differs from theirs, but it doesn’t stop him from putting on the best show he can.  
The basement room they play in ends up overflowing, filled with screaming rowdy teenagers and young twenty-somethings, many with big black X’s taped on their hands. It’s an amazing and very sober crowd and Frank feels like he’s on fire for most of the set.

By the time they finish, he’s covered in sweat- a lot of which he’s sure isn’t his own and he feels like he’s just screamed out every angry thought he’s ever had at these kids. He hopes it was good catharsis for them as much as it was for him. 

The organizers thank them repeatedly after their set and a lot of the kids stay to help them load up their gear. They ask Frank a lot of questions about the band and what he does. He stands around outside and talks to them for a while. It’s nice. They’re good kids. 

Eventually the kids disperse and the band drives back to the hotel to drop off the trailer with all their gear. Everyone wants to go out except for Frank, but he has no desire to sit in the Motel 6 by himself and there’s no way he’s tired enough to sleep yet, so he goes along with them. 

They end up at a crowded bar just off Jackson Square in the French Quarter and Frank only manages to drink about half his beer before he gets so antsy from all noise and stuffiness that he just needs to get out. He tells the guys he’s going for a walk and will be back in a little while and heads outside where it’s a cooler. He breathes deeply as he walks and isn’t really paying attention at all to where he’s been going when he finds himself on the steps of St. Louis Cathedral. 

He looks up at the big white building and just stares for a few seconds before shrugging and thinking, ‘why not?’ He walks up the steps and sees that the sanctuary is open, so he goes inside. Stopping just inside the door, he feels the old urge to cross himself that never quite goes away. He doesn’t do it though. He still has to remind himself sometimes that it’s just superstition. It’s just a motion that doesn’t mean anything. Not to him anyway.

It’s quiet in the sanctuary; there are only a few other people inside. Frank sits down in a pew near the back and looks around. It really is a beautiful old church. He can’t help but think about what Gerard might say about the art and the architecture if he was here. Then he laughs at himself because he can’t seem to go more than an hour without thinking of Gerard, everything reminds him of him.

He and Gerard never did end up talking again before Frank left to finish the tour and so now Frank has no idea where they stand. It’s like Jamia said, nothing was resolved. Gerard didn’t call or text and Frank knows that he could have, but… he doesn’t want to push Gerard if he can help it. If Gerard wants to be with him, he needs to come to that conclusion on his own. Frank learned the hard way before that pushing Gerard only pushes him away. Frank’s not going to do that again.

Frank looks up and begins to examine one of the stained-glass windows and remembers one time when Gerard had told him about how important religious art has been through the ages. The conversation began and ended with Joan of Arc, but it somehow managed to wind through discussions about sacred buildings, and inspired paintings, and hearing the voice of God and even a side note about the art museum in Kansas City having a surprisingly lovely collection of church art. The whole thing made Frank’s head spin at the time and he remembers doing a lot of nodding and ‘ah-ing’ during appropriate pauses. Frank still remembers it vividly. It was only the third time they’d slept together. They stayed up all night talking after and had made love with the curtains open just as the sun was rising. 

Frank can’t believe it when he feels a tear roll down his cheek. He wipes at it angrily and stands up to leave, but he notices an alcove off to the side near the back of the sanctuary and walks over toward it instead. He stops and lights a candle in the alcove before he goes. He’s not exactly sure why, but it just feels like something he should do. He likes this church. He thinks if he ever gets to talk to Gerard again, like, _really_ talk, he’s going to tell him he needs to come see it.

*_*_*

It’s freezing rain a week later on the drive from Tulsa to Fayetteville and Frank begins to fear for his life each time the van hits a patch of black ice. James wonders out loud sarcastically if playing that show in a church in New Orleans might earn them any points, should they end up at St. Peter’s gates tonight. Frank laughs along with the guys and doesn’t mention that he’s got even more points stored up since he ended up in a church twice that night. He never did tell them about going into the cathedral. 

It’s dark and late and the van keeps sliding on the slippery road, but they only have an hour to go and really want to make it to their hotel tonight. Tomorrow is the last show of the tour. Frank really doesn’t want to die tonight. 

He thinks about calling Jamia. About how if this was a plane that might be going down, she’s who he’d call. Then he thinks about Gerard. That’s how it always goes. When he thinks about who he loves- Jamia, Gerard, his mom, his dad, Mikey. He thinks that isn’t right, though, shouldn’t he think of his mom before Gerard?

He thinks about Jamia and the last time he saw her. How she’d told him again how much she loves him. Her last words to him were, ‘be happy.’ She’s only ever wanted that for him. He doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t deserve her. He gave up trying to understand how he got so lucky a long time ago, but he still has his moments. He has these moments where he hears his mother’s words to him about Gerard, the one time he’d opened up to her about him. She’d said, ‘you can’t have your cake and eat it, too.’ Frank interpreted that to mean that he couldn’t have Jamia _and_ Gerard, that he was being selfish somehow for wanting them both. And maybe he is. Who knows? All he knows is that loving Gerard has never made him love Jamia any less. And it’s not as if he can’t be happy with just her. It’s just… he’d be _happier_ with both. But he can’t control other people and he can’t make Gerard share if he doesn’t want to. And apparently he can’t make Gerard believe that Frank truly is capable of loving more than one person that much. He can’t make Gerard believe that he can love two people for forever and that Gerard can be one of those people.

They make it to the Super 8 in Springdale all still in one piece, at 2 AM. It’s the middle of the night, but Frank doesn’t care. He calls Jamia, wakes her up to tell her he loves her and goodnight anyway. She answers sleepily and doesn’t complain about the time. Just echoes his words and ends the call once she’s assessed that he really is okay. 

He falls asleep almost instantly with the sound of her voice in his head.

*_*_*

The show in Fayetteville is out of this world. George’s is packed to the rafters, noisy, and rowdy, and crazy and Frank loves it, loves every dirty second of it. He screams his lungs out and breaks a mic stand. He jumps into the crowd and falls down all over the stage over and over again. The kids love it. They scream back at him and the whole place is shaking by the time they finish playing. 

After the set, they get their gear all cleared off the stage and loaded up right away so that they can go back inside to catch the last band of the night. Frank has a couple of beers, but he isn’t drunk when he goes outside for a smoke. He rounds the corner of the club into the alley, sucking a long drag off his cigarette and stops dead in his tracks when he sees Gerard standing about ten feet away, smoking. Frank sees him fully this time, staring right back at him. It has to be Gerard, there’s no way… no way it isn’t. Frank reaches back to feel for the brick wall of the club and closes his eyes for a minute. He isn’t loosing it anymore, not like before. He’s felt really good since going home for a few days and clearing his head and yet…

He opens his eyes and Gerard is still there… smiling at him. Frank chokes out, “Gerard?”

Gerard nods, dropping his cigarette, and walks slowly toward Frank.

“What are you doing here?” Frank shakes his head as he asks because this makes no sense.

Gerard quirks up one side of lip as he answers, “I heard this was a really great historic venue for punk shows and thought I’d check it out for myself.”

It’s meant to be funny, but Frank doesn’t laugh. “You flew all the way out here from Jersey to see my show?”

Gerard shrugs. “Well it _is_ the last show of the tour.” He looks down at the dirty street for a moment and when Frank remains silent, he sighs and looks up again. “I guess I thought that a grand gesture was in order.”

“Oh yeah?” Frank is confused. He isn’t sure why this couldn’t wait until he got back to Jersey. “Why’s that?”

Gerard finally stops the gradual forward motion he’s been making to stand just about a foot away from Frank, but he doesn’t make any move to touch him. Frank wonders what he’s waiting for. Gerard takes a deep breath before he speaks. “I was a royal asshole to you… and Jamia. And I wanted to say… I’m sorry.” 

Frank swallows once, twice. “I forgive you.” It’s that easy. How is it that easy? Of course Gerard is forgiven.

Gerard closes his eyes for a moment and trembles a little bit. It looks like maybe he’s… relieved? Like maybe he was afraid Frank might not forgive him? Frank drops his cigarette and takes both of Gerard’s hands in his and squeezes them tightly. “Hey.” Gerard opens his eyes and meets Frank’s gaze. He looks like a scared rabbit. “Hey,” Frank says again. “It’s okay.”

Gerard shakes his head. “It isn’t. I hurt you. I can’t… I don’t know how to make it better, but it was a mistake. Letting you go was a mistake. And I don’t know how to fix it, but I want to try.”

Frank nods and whispers, “Okay.”

Gerard’s still going, though. “Will you let me try please, Frank? I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to share you, but… I want to try.”

Frank smiles and places his hands on Gerard’s cheeks. “I can’t ask for any more than that, can I?” 

Gerard finally smiles back as he brings his forehead down to touch Frank’s. They breathe into each other’s mouths for just a few seconds and then finally, finally kiss. And Frank thinks that maybe he _can_ have his cake, and eat it, too. 

_fin_


End file.
